


'til the sun's seen through my eyes

by whataboutateakettle



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: F/M, Pining, Post-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 15:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16370513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whataboutateakettle/pseuds/whataboutateakettle
Summary: "That sounds awfully romantical if you think about it?”// If only she knew how much he had thought about it.





	'til the sun's seen through my eyes

**Author's Note:**

> oh man. 
> 
> 1\. This is not only my first ever Anne with an E fic, I'm also pretty sure it's my first ever fic that doesn't include 21st century characters. So, please forgive me if anything feels totally off.  
> 2\. This started as a cute little compliment I imagined Gilbert giving Anne and transformed into this monster of ~~unrequited~~ pining.  
>  3\. In my head this is set when Anne and Gilbert are 1-2 years older than they are now, but the timeline is pretty flexible.  
> 4\. I need to say: I totally disagree with Anne's thought-journey in this fic, and I do imagine she would also disagree with it if she was thinking clearly in the moment. Anne is a queen, but a queen of rational thought she is not. On a similar note, I do not think your self-worth should be determined by how much a dude values you, even if that dude is Gilbert Blythe. Still, compliments are nice.  
> 5\. Title is from 'Sunflower' by Rex Orange County. Also, [ here's a short playlist of songs that inspired this fic! ](https://open.spotify.com/user/1231979804/playlist/4NdUA60RokVs2XZ98Gg1gY?si=erUAolWwTUqe9nge1rEL8A)

* * *

He catches himself thinking about Anne again. Of course. There’s rarely a time when he isn’t thinking about Anne these days. Unless he’s focused on his studies or on an interesting conversation, there’s at least some small part of his mind that is always stuck on Anne.

He’s got some reason to think about her anyway, as he strolls slowly through the woods towards the Cuthberts’ farm. Mary had been baking that morning and asked him to take some of her biscuits to the Cuthberts. He would have done so regardless; he’s grateful that the Cuthberts have been so friendly to Bash and Mary. But he’d be lying if he said the small chance of seeing Anne there didn’t make him even more eager.

It’s late summer, a wonderful, warm, sunshiny afternoon, though Anne would surely have richer words to describe it. It’s unlikely for her to be home on such a beautiful day. Even so, Mr. or Ms. Cuthbert would surely tell her he stopped by. He wonders for a moment whether that would sadden her, knowing she’d missed him.

Probably not. Though they are certainly friends now, Anne never seems to be as preoccupied with him as he is with her. Bash keeps trying to convince him otherwise, but then, Bash is a romantical fellow.

He’s so absorbed in his thoughts of Anne that he almost doesn’t notice the sound of footsteps coming up behind him, heavy and hasty. He stops and turns, only to see Anne herself barrelling down the path, head down so she can’t see where she’s going, or that someone is in her path.

Now, perhaps there’s enough time for Gilbert to simply step to the side and allow Anne to continue running past him. But, as it happens, one just can’t be sure.

He steadies himself on his feet, so that when Anne collides with him he’s prepared and able to take the brunt of her force. It helps that he is bigger, taller than her anyway. Anne, however, practically bounces off of him and falls backwards to the ground.

“Oh! _Sorry_!” She cries, wincing, her eyes screwed shut.

“Anne!” He says, placing the basket Mary had given him on the ground before crouching down next to her. “Are you alright?”

Her eyes open wide at his voice and she stares at him for a moment. It occurs to him that she had no idea who she had bumped into. He hopes this would give her some degree of comfort but instead she lets out a small gasp and twists her whole body away from him, hiding her face in her hands.

“Go away, Gilbert! Don’t look at me!” She says. He wonders whether such a small collision really warrants such a dramatic reaction.

“Anne, turn around. Are you hurt?” He asks, ignoring her. If she truly believes he would just leave her like this, then she doesn’t have any high opinion of him at all. And anyway, he is still more concerned that she’s injured than anything else.

But rather than facing him, Anne shifts her body still so that her back is to him and she scoops her knees up to her chest. “I just couldn’t bear to torment yet another person by making them look at these horrid features for too long. Perhaps I shall become a recluse? Yes, that seems to be my rightful future. Of course, I shall hate to be stuck indoors, but perhaps I could find a bit of secluded wood to explore for the rest of my days. I would the world’s first outdoor recluse. I could even write a book about it.”

He’s awfully confused at her musings, even though he prides himself on being able to keep up with her most of the time. What he does know, is that something’s made her upset, and he hates that so much it puts a tight knot in his stomach. He hesitates for a moment, unsure how to proceed but finally relents to his instinct and places his hand gently on Anne’s shoulder. “Please, tell me what’s happened?”

Anne’s back stiffens for a second when he touches her, but it quickly relaxes again. He wonders for a moment if it would be too much to rub his thumb gently against the material of her dress. But before he can decide, Anne takes a deep breath, “If I tell you, you can’t laugh.”

This is not the first time he’s heard this from Anne, and to be perfectly honest, it usually precedes something at least mildly amusing. This time, however, he doesn’t think anything that has made her so upset could ever make him laugh.

“I won’t,” he swears.

“And you can’t look at me!”

He narrows his eyes at that. She’s the one that turned away from him! He knows from seeing her when she first fell that there’s nothing wrong with her appearance. In fact her face was as radiant as ever, except that her eyes were red from tears. But Anne waits for his agreement before continuing, so he gathers that she is as serious about this as she is anything.

“If I cover my eyes, will you at least turn around?” he offers.

He sits himself down properly, one hand resting on ground and one hand covering his eyes. He supposes he could have just shut them tightly, but this felt more impactful. He hears Anne slowly shuffle around to face him, the branches and leaves moving beneath her. They’re still sitting quite close, and at one point her boot nudges at his foot and it makes his lips twitch upward. To think only a minute ago he was hoping to catch a glimpse of her at her farm.

“Now,” he says, swallowing down the smile as he remembers Anne is still distraught, “Will you tell me why you’re so upset?”

“ _Well_ ,” Anne starts in a huff, and he knows that she is not giving him any condensed version of the story. “Diana, and Ruby, and I were having the most wonderful time in the field by the schoolhouse. Oh, it was glorious! There were so many beautiful wildflowers around us. And we were imagining we were travelling dignitaries from faraway lands, princesses, and countesses and such. And we were having to negotiate a peace treaty for all our husbands had died in terrible wars – hence the need for a peace treaty of course.”

His lips twitch again, unsure how to respond. “That sounds -”

Luckily for him, Anne just continued, “And _then_ we were interrupted by Josie Pye and Jane Andrews taking an afternoon stroll. Ruby and Diana invited them to join us. To be perfectly honest, I would not think to invite Josie Pye herself, but Jane has known to be quite lovely to me in the past and I thought well, the more the merrier. As I always say, you can never have too many beautiful princesses negotiating a peace treaty!”

“Of course.”

“I ought to have been wary I suppose, but I was too overcome by the enjoyment of our afternoon up until then. After we explain each of our characters, Josie points to me and laughs and says “Well that’s impossible. Anyone who looks like you could never be a princess. Princesses are beautiful and graceful and you, Anne Shirley, will never be either.”

His jaw clenches and he wishes he could take open his eyes and look at her properly, but he doesn’t dare do so yet. Instead, he just sits there, quietly furious. For years he had considered Billy Andrews to be the foulest person in Avonlea, but perhaps Billy has met his match in Josie Pye. After a moment, he allowed himself to respond. “You should know by now not to take anything Josie Pye has to say to heart. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Oh but how can I not take it to heart when her words are so irrefutably true. After she’d said it, I looked around at Diana and Ruby and even Josie and Jane and was struck by their delicate beauty, their unblemished skin, their hair. Gilbert, perhaps you don’t understand but surely you have eyes! _They_ are the ones that look like princesses. I suppose I have been denying myself this fact for some time now. I am simply plain. Even Marilla has said so. I had convinced myself that if I focused on my ambitions and intellect, it wouldn’t matter. I told you once I wanted to be like Miss Stacey, but even Miss Stacey is beautiful. It just goes to show that brains without beauty do not account for very much at all.”

“Anne, stop saying that. You’re -” He can’t take it anymore. He drops his hand so he can look at her, gaze at her, like he wants to do all the time, any chance he gets. She opens her mouth to protest, but he beats her to it. He learnt some time ago that one of the few ways to get Anne to stop talking is to talk faster, and more unabashedly than her. It’s not something that comes naturally to him, but he’s happy to make this exception.

“Ask me if _I_ think you’re beautiful.” He says, the words rolling off his tongue before he’s thought them through.

“ _Ugh!_ You don’t need to make matters worse, Gilbert Blythe. I already know what you think about me.”

He raises an eyebrow at her, because he is sure that she doesn’t. She lifts a hand to pull on one of her plaits, looking at him pointedly. Of course he remembered, he remembered being hypnotised by the flurry of red hair and big words that walked into his life that day. He felt compelled by her, would’ve said anything to get her attention, although if he had known then how much strife her red hair had caused her in her life, he most definitely would’ve picked another way to do it.

He just offers her a smile, and shuffles himself an inch closer to her. “Anne,” he says, gently, but firmly, “Just ask me.”

She sighs ever so theatrically, and then holds her gaze at her feet as she speaks. “Gilbert, do you think I’m beautiful.”

“You, Anne, are like the sun.”

Her head shoots up and she looks at him, confused, and - _could it be? -_ speechless. Of course, he’s aware that it doesn’t make sense to her. It only makes sense to him because he has had so much time to think about her, to consider the right ways to express, or maybe confess, his feelings to her. He has wanted to say these words for what feels like a lifetime, and he’s not about to give up this chance. So he continues.

“Anne, however pleasing your features are, and I promise you, they are immensely pleasing. They _cannot_ compare to the brightness that comes from your mind and your soul. Sometimes I can’t look at you because it feels like I am being blinded by the light that comes from you, but at the same time I can’t ever seem to look away. So, you see the quandary I am in.”

“Gil-”

“And even more than that, like the sun you bring warmth and light to the world around you. The world blooms _because_ of you! If anyone thinks you unpretty it’s because they are too blinded by your light to truly see how beautiful you are.”

“Gilbert.” She says softly, blushing now. He means everything he just said but he immediately wishes he could do it over to include how glorious is feels to be the one to make Anne Shirley Cuthbert blush. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“Then let me say one more thing,” he says, feeling emboldened, and waits for her to meet his gaze. “Your face is my favourite face in this world. I could look at it forever and not get tired of it. Please do not insult yourself by thinking yourself plain ever again.”

He watches her lips grow into a smile, wide and radiant, before she realises she has no words of her own. Instead she scrambles up to her feet, brushing the leaves and dirt off her dress as she does so. He quickly follows her, bringing the basket of biscuits up with him.

“I should head home, Marilla will be needing me to help with supper soon,” she tells him, looking almost apologetic.

He wonders whether he should disappointed at her reaction, or rather, lack thereof. But her eyes are wide and blue, stilling gazing at him, and he can almost hear the cogs in her mind working to process his words. He’s happy to give her all the time in the world, as long as he’s sure he’s not upset her.

He nods. “I was just heading to Green Gables to deliver these biscuits from Mary. Can I walk you the rest of the way?”

Anne nods back at him, and he waits for her to set the pace. They walk in silence for a short while, which is unlike Anne. He knows she doesn’t like to walk in silence even when she’s alone.

“So,” he says, hoping this would brighten her spirit. “Would you tell me more about this peace treaty? Surely it requires a lot of complex diplomacy?”

Sure enough, her eyes light up as she begins to regale him with the details.

* * *

After he delivers the biscuits and relays Bash and Mary’s regards to the Cuthberts, Anne announces she’s going to walk him to the fence. Anne says nothing, except thanks him again for bringing the biscuits. The formality of it all makes him worried at first, but he realises she’s still thinking about their conversation in the woods.

When they reach the gate, Anne dances her fingers along the wood and he wonders whether he should bid her good night and let her contemplate his words in private. Truth be told, he’s just enjoying watching her in the early evening light. Her hair had grown back a little darker than before, but the light still reflected off it, giving her almost a beautiful warm aura.

“Did you really mean what you said?” Anne asks suddenly. She’s not even looking at him, but rather at the grass, hands moving to tidy her plaits down her shoulders.

“ _Anne_.” He groans. Had she not been listening at all?

“I do thank you for your kind words! They mean ever so much to me, Gilbert, really they do. I'll try to take them to heart. What I meant was... what you said about my face being your favourite face in the world. Perhaps you misspoke? It’s just that – that sounds _awfully_ romantical, if you think about it?”

He can’t help but smile. If only she knew how much he had thought about it. She seems nervous, and he can only hope that she’s nervous because she was wishful and not because she’s unsure how to reject him. He steals a glance down at her pink lips and thinks, for not the first time, about kissing her. That would at least answer her question.

“Oh. Well,” he starts, and Anne looks up and meets his gaze. He’s grateful, as those blue eyes have given him comfort and confidence on numerous occasions in the past, and they would continue to do so. “I meant every word I said. And I suppose I did mean it in a romantical way, if that’s alright with you.”

Before she can respond, he leans forwards and presses his lips ever so slightly to her cheek. It’s as far as he’ll go, he would never kiss her properly without being sure that she wanted him to.

When he pulls back, she’s staring at him. He offers her another smile before heading off through the wooden gate. He’s still smiling as he walks back through the woods. He feels strangely inspired, and he can only imagine what Bash would have to say about all of this, though he can’t imagine he’ll be sharing this story with anyone. This moment is his and Anne’s, and he’s glad to give her some time to think about it. He supposes next time he sees her she could break his heart, but at least for now she knows she has it.


End file.
